


Amidst

by NeonWritesRobits



Category: Among Us (Video Game), Original Work
Genre: ((I dunno how to use this platform I apologise in advance)), Astronauts, Body Horror, Gonna toss the colour names in characters but I dunno if these are actually characters, I've been playing some Among Us it shows, Impostors, Just some generic astronauts, Not much but like, just in case., space
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:28:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26692963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeonWritesRobits/pseuds/NeonWritesRobits
Summary: A day in the life of some colourful spacepeople.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 17





	Amidst

**Author's Note:**

> A short little thing I whipped out instead of doing my literature homework earlier, I haven't gone through and edited anything so just . be prepared for that . kinda just a practice thing!
> 
> Mostly posting to get some experience with this site but if people wanna read that's cool too :heart:

Space.  
The final frontier.  
(Well, actually like, the final grouping of frontiers, because “space” as a concept is too vast and complex to be considered one singular collective item, especially considering just a single planet can have as many cultural subsets as your own, but details.)

There’s a lot of moving parts involved in space travel, and everyone and their mothers all wanted to be a part of it. Callsigns by name and number quickly ran out, and trying to manage crews of varying sizes just further complicated the system. Instead, each ship had a crew of ten, and each crewmate was a different colour (both by callsign and by suit, which you always had on), to keep things simple. 

You were Blue. 

The system had worked like that for years now, and it’s how the great majority of your life has been - the nine you’re with are functionally your family, divvying up chores around the ship, and working as a well oiled machine. Crews would stop every few months - sometimes on bigger vessels, and sometimes planetside - and resupply, take time to unwind, and maybe hang out with friends from other crews. There were other details, little things, but this was your life.

“Hehey, Blue.” White gave you a playful slug on the shoulder, snapping you back to the present. “C’mon, don’t wanna be late for Tasklist!” He hops past, towards the cafeteria, and you follow - he’s right, you might get stuck with the boring stuff if you’re the last one there.

And, thankfully, you aren’t! The commotion in the room seems distant, yet still too tight, as you try to shuffle up to the board. A firm pat on the back from Black stops you, however, and you turn around to see Green standing next to him - in her hands, the last thing you wanted to see, a faded red toolbox. “Have fun in electrical!” She jokes, and your laugh is the only nervous one in the room. 

Electrical isn’t that bad, you think. Just a little boring! And dark. And secluded. Despite your best efforts, thoughts of brightly coloured wires can’t hold your mind away from the old children’s tales they used to tell, to scare kids away from places like that (children, naturally, don’t mix well with fine electrical components.) Impostors. 

Horrific aliens, with four long arms and a hundred sharp teeth, that slink through the vents and cause a host of problems throughout the ship - from cutting the power to merciless murder. You’ve never seen one - no one has, because they aren’t real, right? - but you can picture the big clawed arms hanging down from the ceiling, dripping with the blood of the crewmates they once hid amongst. Everyone knew the stories, but most people were old enough to laugh them off when they heard them. Most, but not you. You don’t realize how caught up in panic you are, forgetting the jovial crew standing around you, until an unexpected voice slashes through those thoughts; “I’ll go with you.” 

You glance up to see Lime, who hadn’t been here earlier, facing you. He continues with a shrug when you don’t reply. “Yeah, no biggie, got the short end of the stick this cycle. I can keep the little one company.” 

Before you can reply, and before your paranoia filled thoughts can get out your mouth, another hand lands on your back; this one pulls you back upright, where, to your surprise, you see Red, usually the stereotypical lone wolf type. “Blue’s scared of you. We both know you won’t be helpful. I’ll go.” 

The room had mostly cleared out by now - aside from the three of you, there was only Brown downloading files, awkwardly trying not to get in the middle of Red and Lime’s intense staring contest. A tense minute passes, before Lime turns out the door. “Twice the victims for the aliens!” No one speaks for a moment, the only noise being the well familiar sounds of the ship, until Brown’s tablet dings and she thankfully scurries out of the room. 

Not a word is shared between you and Red on the walk to electrical - you know Red’s the silent one, so you don’t bother trying to strike up a conversation while he follows behind you. Tasks were usually silent activities anyway, so it doesn’t feel out of place. You flip your comms off, both to abide by the rules and so no one hears whatever comments you may make. 

You pause outside the door - it looks like all the other ones in the ship, but it still feels scarier, concealing a dark labyrinth, and glance at him; a dash of envy at his calm demeanor flickers through your muddled thoughts. Before you know it, you’re inside. 

The toolbox thunks against the ground as you set it down, but that’s the only sound that you can hear. It’s calming, in a way - alone, secluded, with no way for anything else to get in, the only source of anxiety now is the awfully designed calibration dials, the epitome of user-unfriendliness. Your mix of anger and enjoyment grows until the 17th time, when you finally get all three oriented correctly, but your only celebration is a long exhale and a fist-pump to yourself. A glance to the left shows you the next panels that require attention - none nearly as frustrating as the calibration. Wiring hardly requires any thought, just matching up colours, and you take a minute to relax during it. The next screen over is another data terminal, and it’s only when it shines across your helmet that you realise how dark it is in here. A shiver runs down your back as you plug in the pad, and the ancient system informs you it will take five days to download this week’s recordings. It never fails to give an estimate like that, despite consistently taking only a few seconds. 

A small creak startles you, causing you to jump back into the corner. The tablet slips to the floor, throwing its faint blue glow across the room in a panic to find… Red? Standing calmly and quietly inside the room. You could’ve sworn he was outside, but maybe he felt like he’d be more comforting in here?

It only takes about three steps to realize he isn’t this close to comfort, and the fact that you’re cornered closes in far quicker than his slow, heavy steps. 

His suit - or flesh, maybe - slowly tears open across his abdomen, only confirming what your racing mind had concluded. Huge bloodied fangs revealed themselves in a malicious grin, like misshapen daggers of bone lined up across his body. A prehensile black tongue uncoils itself from the space between, brandishing a spearlike, bone-infused tip. A horrific snapping noise accompanies a split around his arms, spikes and muscle-wrapped protrusions jutting holes in the formerly pristine material. The window on his helmet shatters open, and what used to be a head is gruesomely turned into another gaping maw. Clawed hands grasp for something on his thighs, while his lower legs finish breaking and reforming into longer, digitigrade, clawed ones, with blood-curdling cracks. The darkness prevents you from seeing the entirety of him, but you can pull enough from the panicked soup of thoughts to realize that he’s probably armed himself, squeezing his gun into the sharp, twisted aberrations ending his arms. Some sort of blood dripped down his legs, and off his arms, and you weren’t sure if it was his or someone else’s. A brief glint of silver blinds you through your helmet - the knife, held or infused in his left hand. But he’d know not to use it here, around all these loose wires. A thought bolts through your head, snapping the fear away from his many implements of death for only a moment - enough time to remember you had a gun as well. 

You fumble to pull it out as he draws near, a grim growl stealing your ears away from the soft hum of the machinery. His reflexes, whatever they are now, are probably much faster than yours, and he’s much more armed - you’ll only have one shot.

The blaster pulls out with a shaky yank, and swings around to aim at the chest of the impostor. He raises his arms and lunges; you close yours and look away. 

A single gunshot rings throughout the ship, and green blood drips to the floor.

**Author's Note:**

> Intentionally left the ending vague! Feel free to have your own interpretations :)


End file.
